For A Father's Honour
by tinylexie
Summary: This is for a request made by RolledupinOne. Summary: Draco's thoughts when he attempts to attack Harry on the Hogwarts Express after his father's capture in the Department of Mysteries. Prequel to "A Mother's Worse Fear."


**Author's Note****: Most of the dialogue in this fic comes from **_**Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix**_**, Chapter 38, "The Second War Begins."**

* * *

It was an unspoken rule among proper Pureblood families that if someone did anything to insult or hurt a member of your family, you sought vengeance. It didn't matter if you hated that family member. With Purebloods, if you dishonored one family member, you dishonored the entire family.

When it came to the honour of your family, it didn't matter if you were generally a manipulative backstabber. All that mattered was that your family's honour was restored, no matter the cost. It was blood for blood. It was a wound for a wound. It was a life for a life.

That was just some of the thoughts going through Draco's mind as he, Crabbe, and Goyle searched for Potter on the Hogwarts Express.

Draco didn't know the full story, but he knew enough to know that Potter had played a role in his father being sent to Azkaban.

It didn't matter to Draco either that the dementors were no longer guarding the prison. Azkaban was still not a place where his father should have ever found himself.

From Draco's earliest memories, his father had always been an imposing, commanding figure. Draco had yet to meet another Pureblood that could even come close to equaling his father's aristocratic presence.

Lucius Malfoy was a true aristocrat. Even though Draco would never admit it out loud, he knew that he was just cocky at best. He had never and he doubted he ever would have his father's aristocratic grace.

Even among Purebloods, Lucius Malfoy was unmatched. He had no equal. Everyone else, including other Purebloods, were inferior to him.

And now he was rotting in Azkaban. And it was all Potter's fault.

Potter had to pay. No one, not even the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, got away with dishonouring a Pureblood who had family.

* * *

It should have been glorious, giving Potter what he deserved.

And it would have been glorious if not for Potter's friends.

Draco knew he should have first checked that Potter was truly alone before he attacked, but the Malfoy heir had allowed his emotions to cloud his reason.

Potter had just been standing there, looking as smug as ever. And he had been standing alone.

Draco should have known better, though. He should have given some thought to the compartment Potter was standing right in front of.

It was one of the few times in his life that Draco had allowed his emotions to get the best of him, to make him not think straight.

His father would have been so disappointed in him. His father had taught him better than this. His father had taught him to never allow his emotions to control him.

"You make others, those that are inferior to us, lose control of their emotions," Draco remembered his father once telling him. "You, however, _never _lose control. You never allow your emotions to control your actions. Emotions are a weakness, Draco, and you can never appear weak in front of anyone."

Draco, however, had failed to heed his father's words and teachings.

And now Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were being hoisted into the luggage rack, completely disfigured by all the hexes and jinxes that had been performed on them by Potter and his friends.

So much for the whole Gryffindor courage thing and the whole Hufflepuff kindness thing. It truly was a sign of braveness and of a tender-heart when you used more hexes and jinxes than were necessary to take down an opponent.

And to think, people said that Slytherins fought dirty and unfairly.

* * *

Draco could not control his shaking. It hurt. It hurt so much. The pain was unbearable. It took all of Draco's efforts just to stay conscious.

But he could feel that it was a losing battle. He wouldn't be able to stay conscious for much longer.

And a part of him just wanted to fade away. He felt such shame in himself.

And he really was hurting a lot.

"'I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing Malfoy's mother's face when he gets off the train,'" Draco then heard Ernie Macmillan say.

Draco was barely able to stop himself from whimpering. His mother. He had forgotten all about what his actions could possibly end up doing to his mother.

Narcissa Malfoy had always been overprotective of her son. Draco knew that she would be heavily affected when she caught sight of him and realized what had been done to him.

It was enough that she now had to be the head of the household in her husband's absence. But now she was also going to have to deal with the sight of her disfigured, injured son.

It was more than she should have ever had to bear. There wasn't a more graceful woman than her. She was truly her husband's equal. Like her husband, she should have been above this type of treatment.

* * *

Barely holding onto consciousness, Draco watched as Potter's sidekick, the Weasel, entered the compartment.

"'Goyle's mum'll be really pleased, though,'" the Weasel said. "'He's loads better-looking now.'"

Draco would never argue with the fact that Goyle wasn't the most attractive person in sight, but Draco also knew that Goyle's mother genuinely cared about him.

Potter and his friends really didn't care at all about all the mothers they were hurting. No doubt Potter felt justified because his mother was dead. Potter thought that he was the center of the universe. He thought that just because his mother was dead, that gave him the right to do whatever he wanted to other mothers.

And the Weasel wasn't much to look at either. A couple of hexes and jinxes would do him a lot of good as well.

"'Anyway, Harry,'" the Weasel continued nonchalantly, "'the food trolley's just stopped if you want anything…'"

Draco and his friends were in agonizing pain, and food was all that the Weasel could think about.

Potter and his friends left the compartment, with idiotic grins on their faces.

They could have cared less about whether or not they had done permanent damage to Draco and his friends.

_And to think,_ Draco thought before he finally lost consciousness, _people say that my father is a cold, evil bastard with no heart._


End file.
